


where's your witness?

by jennycaakes



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Fun, Games, M/M, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-06 21:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15204287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/pseuds/jennycaakes
Summary: Holster has played Assassins with the team exactly twice. It always, literally always, ends in complete disaster. No matter who’s playing, no matter when. It happened before Holster was on the team and it will happen after. Freshman year he nearly broke his nose, which was fine because the season had already ended. And then last year Shitty ended up with a black eye because Lardo punched him in the face during a sneak attack.There are always smaller injuries too. Cuts and bruises from hiding and fleeing.But they’ve never played Assassins just in the Haus before. Or in a day.--or: Samwell cancels for rain and everyone holed up in the Haus decides to play Assassins.





	1. the game's afoot bitches

**Author's Note:**

> i dunno what this is or where it came from, but here ya go. i was probably thinking about that one time i played assassins at camp and there was so much betrayal all the time. this is kind of a giant shitpost but it's fun so oh well.
> 
> ps - i still don't know anything abt hockey. just roll with it
> 
> hope you like it!

****It’s pretty rare that Samwell cancels for snow.

They’re north enough that snow in the winter is standard and enough money goes to keeping the streets clear and salted that it’s never an issue. Holster would prefer if they got a few days off every now and then when the wind chill was bad, but he plays hockey. He’s okay with the cold. It’s a state of mind, if anything.

It’s even rarer that Samwell cancels for _rain_.

It’s mid-April and Shitty’s marching around the Haus shouting about global warming and the thunder outside rumbles on. The rain is bad. It’s unrelenting, falling in sheets, and the Haus wasn’t really built for it. There are cups and pots all over the place to handle the leaks and Bitty keeps trying to swap them out because he hates to see his kitchenware reduced to catching puddles but this rain doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon. The streets outside are flooded and a fair amount of students are outside running through the runoff. Holster nearly grabbed Ransom and a frisbee once they got the alert that Samwell was closing but one stern look from Jack reminded him of his priorities, and catching a cold is _not_ an option.

So, inside they sit, wasting away, listening to the sounds of raindrops in pots.

“We could play a game,” Chowder finally suggests. Bitty’s started tugging on the hem of his own shirt, his eyes always scanning between the various pans, and this is the first thing that really grabs his attention. “Aren't there a few board games in the basement?”

“They’re all missing pieces,” Ransom complains.

“Then we could play a game without pieces,” Lardo offers. “Assassins, anyone?”

Holster has played Assassins with the team exactly twice. It always, _literally always_ , ends in complete disaster. No matter who’s playing, no matter when. It happened before Holster was on the team and it will happen after. Freshman year he nearly broke his nose, which was fine because the season had already ended. And then last year Shitty ended up with a black eye because Lardo punched him in the face during a sneak attack.

There are always smaller injuries too. Cuts and bruises from hiding and fleeing.

But they’ve never played Assassins just in the Haus before. Or in a day. It’s a long, drawn out game that takes a few weeks.

“We still have a few games, Lardo,” Jack says. “I don’t know if it’s the best idea…”

“I’m in,” Shitty says as Jack trails off.

“Us too,” Ransom says, meaning him in Holster, which is true even though they haven’t discussed it. Without looking he holds up his hand for a high-five, which Holster returns.

Bitty didn’t play last year because of his concussion, and he looks a little nervous, but shrugs. “It could be fun?” he wonders.

The frogs join too.

Jack caves. The team cheers.

The rules are pretty simple. Everyone who’s playing has a target. Once you kill your target (hit them with a sock) you get to claim the target that they had, and the game carries on until there are two people battling for the winner. The targets are assigned so it makes a complete circle. Person A has Person B has Person C has Person A, meaning it will always loop back around.

If anyone watches you take out another person (again, just hitting them with a sock) they can shout _witness!_ and the kill becomes void - but then your target knows you’re after them.

They find a website that automatically assigns targets to one another so nobody knows who anybody else has. Everyone starts in their rooms (or the rooms they’ve claimed if they don’t actually live in the Haus yet, like Lardo and the Frogs) which is their safe space - a room where they can’t be assassinated. Other than that, it’s free range.

The game begins at 11:00am.

* * *

Holster has Ransom’s name.

“I’m just saying,” Ransom says as he paces the attic about an hour later as they wait for the game to _actually_ begin, “that if we work together _at least for a bit_ we can totally fucking win.”

“You know I love you Ransy,” Holster tells him, “but forming alliances in Assassin is risky as hell.”

“C’mon, Holtzy!”

“And then what happens when I have to kill you?” Holster carries on with a grin. He knows that, because he has Ransom’s name, Ransom can’t have his. At least not yet. “It would be the ultimate betrayal, bro. I can’t do it.”

“Mighty bold of you to assume that you’ll be the one killing me,” Ransom says, arching an eyebrow. “And killing me whether we team up or not is still going to be a betrayal, dude.”

“What if it comes down to us?” Holster asks. “You wouldn’t kill me?” Ransom hesitates, but looks mischievous. “See! It’s the game, Rans! Alliances are frail!” And then there’s the strategy aspect that Holster has to be thinking about. “Wait a second,” he says, forcing confusion onto his face. “Do you have my name?”

“Shit, Holtz, no!”

“That’s what someone who’s trying to kill me would say!”

The clock strikes 11. Holster and Ransom’s phones both buzz, and Holster pulls it out to find a group chat for everyone playing.

 **Lardo  
** get ready to be murdered, assholes!!!

 **Chowder  
** why am i so afraid

 **Holster  
** (devil emoji)

 **Bitty**  
Oh gosh I lost track of time  
There’s a pie in the oven now I thought it would be faster  
Please do not murder me while I take it out!!! Ahhhh!

 **Jack**  
Better hurry up Bittle

 **Bitty  
** AHHHHH WAIT

Ransom reads the messages with a grin. “Help me kill Bitty,” he says.

“You’ve got Bitty?” Holster tips his head back in a wild laugh. “You can’t murder Bitty, Rans! It’s Bitty!”

Ransom shrugs, starting for the door. “This is a game of life and death!” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll do it myself!”

Holster just shakes his head.

There are a few ways he can play this, he thinks, as he listens to Ransom hurrying down the steps. He can lay in wait until it’s just him and Rans, and then murder his best friend. This is probably the most noble option, waiting until he _has_ to. Or he can do this alliance with Ransom and use it to figure out who’s trying to kill him so he can plan. Or he can murder Rans early on, before he murders Bitty, and then wait to murder Bitty until the end which might be an easier target. Rans is still caught in the heat of the moment now, so it could be a good time to get him. And Rans would maybe still help him, even dead. Best bros ride or die and all that.

Once you die in Assassins, you’re out, but that doesn’t mean you have to remove yourself from the game completely. Spies crawl out of the woodwork, and people who Holster does not expect to be sneaky are completely insane. Ransom would be a great spy with the right convincing.

Yeah. He should murder Rans now while he can.

He checks his pockets for some balled up socks and hurries down the steps after Ransom, trying to be quieter than his friend, and creeps through the second floor in fear of someone popping out of nowhere.

Lardo claimed Shitty’s room to share as her safe space, and Holster can hear the two of them talking quietly, which means they must be planning their strategy together. Bitty’s room is blasting music but Holster thinks it might be a distraction, seeing as the whole pie thing is happening.

Dex’s voice carries over the storm outside. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Chill,” Nursey returns, followed by Dex’s groan. “I’ll help you clean it up.”

Holster creeps down the stairs, carefully rounding the corner, to see that one of the various pots that had been set up to collect rain was bumped into, spilling water all over the ground. “Really guys?” Holster asks.

“I thought Nurse was trying to kill me!” Dex says.

“Mighta been,” Nursey responds with a grin. “Grab the mop, Holtz?”

Holster nods, still carefully creeping through the house, until he gets to the kitchen. Rans is leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face.

“Bitty’s not here,” he says. There’s a pie cooling on the counter and it smells like heaven. “The oven wasn’t even on anymore by the time I got here, Holtz.” Holster considers this, moving to the closet to grab the mop that Bitty bought for them at the start of the year. “He’s a game changer.”

“Bitty?” he wonders. “No way. He’d never--”

 **Chowder**  
we’re supposed to text here once you’re murdered right????  
RIP CHOWDER, YE KNEW HIM WELL  
yeah i got hardcore killed

 **Shitty  
** Wait already??? Fuck fuck fuck

 **Lardo  
** the game’s afoot bitches!!!!!

 **Ransom  
** bRO who got you Chowder?!? it’s been like 15 mins!

 **Chowder  
** no spoilers

Ransom holds up his phone. “Bet it was Bitty,” he says.

Holster laughs, starting back for the spill. “Assumptions are dangerous in Assassins, Rans.”

“I’m on the hunt!”

Holster returns to where Dex and Nursey are trying to contain the spill and plops the dry mop right into it so it can soak up the mess. “Chowder’s dead,” he tells them as they clean.

Nursey stands up at once. “What!” He turns, glancing over his shoulder and looking up the stairs. “C!” he shouts. “Dude!”

Chowder’s voice carries down from the second floor. “I know, I know!”

 **Holster  
** bits can we eat this pie it smells so fucking goooooood

 **Bitty**  
Not yet! It’s too hot!!!!  
We have to let it cool!!!!

* * *

Assassins isn’t fun if everyone hides in their rooms, so they try to keep things as normal in the Haus as possible. Everyone’s a little on edge at first, but that’s expected. Chowder keeps going on and on about whoever it is who killed him and the intensity of the moment but won’t say anything about who it was, and no one’s face is giving anything away.

They all eat Bitty’s pie together, warm and filling, before really getting back into gameplay mode.

Ransom and Holster are in the basement now, helping Dex strategically place towels to keep the flooding away from certain things, and Holster’s kind of paranoid. This game always makes him paranoid. But if Dex is trying to murder Holster he doesn’t seem too concerned about it, focusing more on the structural integrity of the Haus and keeping all of their things dry. He’s worried about the dryer again, always, and Holster thinks that tinkering keeps Dex calm.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Dex says as Ransom edges past him to shove another towel into a nook and cranny. Dex glances up at Holster just a moment. “You came out to your parents, didn’t you? How’d it go?”

Holster told the team a few weeks ago, in passing, that he was going to tell his family he’s bisexual. He didn’t want to make it a big deal because to him it’s kinda not. He’s known about this part of himself for a long time, a lot of the team has too, but it’s slowly become a label that Holster wants to _claim_. He wants to be loud and proud, Bisexual Birkholtz, so telling his family was the next big step.

“Oh! It went great,” Holster says with a grin. It had been such a relief to hear his parents joy and acceptance and laughter on the other end of the phone after he told them. “Thanks for following up, man.”

Dex glances over his shoulder so he can smile at him. “Yeah, of course. I’m glad to hear it.”

“I mean I play hockey,” Holster carries on. “My mom was all like, you’re always all up on other guys anyway, sort of thing. I mean I don’t think they _knew_ , but they weren’t super surprised? Which is great with me.”

Dex tightens something in the machine. “I think I’ll tell my parents if I’m ever actually with a man,” he says thoughtfully. Which is--news to Holster, but cool. Tinkering totally tears down Dex’s walls. “But until then, no rush.”

The subject is passed over as quickly as it appeared, but that’s okay. When Holster looks up and meets Ransom’s gaze, it’s all kinds of warm. It does stupid stuff to Holster’s stomach.

Despite the announcement that at Some Point In Time Holster wanted to tell his family, telling his family that he’s bisexual was actually kind of an impulse decision, as a lot of things that Holster do actually are. He’s not like Ransom with his Excel sheets and his plans and his ability to look at the ice and see the game five steps ahead of where it is. Holster lives in the moment and does dumb stuff without thinking about it.

He’d been wanting to tell them for a while. But he told his family, specifically, because a few weeks ago when Ransom was half-asleep, he accidentally grabbed Holster’s sweatshirt before heading out to class instead of his own. Which meant Ransom was wearing a Samwell hockey sweatshirt that read _Birkholtz_. And seeing Ransom in Holster’s sweatshirt had him thinking about Ransom, not for the first time, and a possible life with Ransom, and cute boyfriend shit like wearing one another’s clothes, and he kind of spiraled which lead to him coming out to his parents.

Not that Ransom’s into him or whatever.

But they’re best friends, and when casual intimacy drifts into familiar intimacy, Holster’s brain sort of freaks out. They both like guys. They both care an insane amount about each other.

It’s not like Holster’s _pining_ over Ransom. But his best friend’s super hot and super kind and just super, in all ways, and Holster’s maybe sometimes a little bit in love with him. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

Usually things are normal. They’ve been overly affectionate with one another since freshman year when they first met. But sometimes, sometimes, sometimes Holster thinks there might be something even better just over the horizon.

Like--who doesn’t want to fall in love with their best friend? That’s the dream. But he’s getting ahead of himself.

“What about you Rans?” Holster asks, just because he needs to get out of his head. “I know you were thinking about it.”

Ransom shrugs. “I feel like I have to slip in more subtle conversations about pansexuality even being a thing before I tell them that I am the thing. You know?”

“For sure.”

“But eventually,” Ransom says.

Holster smiles at him, and Ransom smiles back, and they’re both so fucking lost in one another’s goddamn eyes that when the basement door opens and a balled up sock comes hurtling down full speed before slamming into Dex’s back, neither of them see it.

Dex whirls around in time for the basement door to shut. Holster and Ransom are snapped out of their moment at the sound. He turns to them.

“Did you see it?” he asks, pushing himself to his feet. “Did you see who threw it?”

Both of them look toward the door up the stairs, shaking their heads. “Did you get hit?” Ransom asks.

Dex snatches the sock up from the ground and holds it out to them. “I was just assassinated right here and neither of you reacted!”

A laugh bubbles out of Holster. “Shit, Dex!”

“You have _got_ to be kidding me! Who was it?!” As Dex turns, ready to start for for the door, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It must be a private text because Holster’s own phone doesn’t hum with an alert, so it can’t be the group message. “Asshole,” Dex mutters, tapping out a response to who Holster assumes is the Mystery Murderer. And then his phone really does buzz in his pocket.

 **Dex  
** Was just trying to make sure the basement doesn’t flood but I’m dead now

 **Nursey  
** where’s ur witness man

 **Jack  
** Aren’t you down there with Holster and Ransom?

 **Dex**  
Yes

 **Shitty**  
HAHAHA they didn’t see??!

 **Lardo**  
classic

 **Ransom  
** We were distracted goodbye

 **Shitty  
** by what? How bad is the flooding???

 **Dex  
** Not distracted by the flooding, just each other

 **Lardo  
** CLASSIC


	2. once a camp counselor, always a camp counselor

Shitty’s approach to Assassins is to chase his target down an empty hallway screaming and firing away until he manages the perfect hit. It gives away who he’s after, but if they’re alone and the person getting socks thrown at them can’t avoid it, it’s kind of a fool-proof method.

It’s how he manages to assassinate Nursey. It’s especially easy because Nursey is not really in the state of mind where he wants to be sprinting from someone through the Haus if he doesn’t have to be.

They’re in the middle of learning how to make friendship bracelets when it happens.

Everyone’s just kind of hanging out until Bitty goes upstairs and pulls out an old box of string. “I can do more than just bake, you know,” he jokes, setting the box in front of them.

“Once a camp counselor, always a camp counselor,” Jack murmurs when Bitty starts his demonstration, but he seems fond, and Holster can’t really blame him.

“Should we call you Mr. Eric?” Ransom asks, hand in the air.

“Mr. Bitty?” Holster offers.

“Boys, please,” Bitty says with a little smile. “If you don’t pay attention now you’ll be miles behind everyone else."

Holster and Ransom grin, bumping elbows, and pay as much attention as they can.

Things like this have always come easy to Holster. He was a boy scout when he was a kiddo and while it wasn’t the same, he’d definitely tied his fair share of knots. That’s all friendship bracelets are - patterns of knots.

Holster picks out colors that remind him of Bitty (oranges and yellows and blues) and starts his pattern right away. He’s not sure that Bitty’ll keep the bracelet on very long, what with how often and intensely he cooks, but maybe he can use it as like a bookmark or something. Tie it to his keychain.

Ransom is less immediately good at this. His fingers keep slipping and he has his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration and he’s hunched over the table that they taped his starting knot to, his eyes as close to the string as they can be. He doesn’t look mad that he’s really awful at this (maybe he doesn’t realize?), but he keeps up the effort. It’s adorable.

With something like friendship bracelets being made, people can’t help but talk about when they were kids.

“I spent my summers working,” Dex mutters from where he’s struggling as well, not nearly as cool about it as Ransom is. It’s nice that he’s still around with everyone even though he’s totally dead. “So no summer camp for me.”

“Boy scout,” Holster says.

“No wonder you’re so stupid good at this,” Ransom murmurs, still working on his bracelet. “I never went to summer camp,” he says, “but I was always busy doing something.”

“Summer camp’s the best, y’all,” Bitty says. “Gosh, I just love watching kids figure out who they are! It’s so heartwarming and--”

“ _HELP ME_.”

Suddenly there’s maniacal laughter--Shitty’s, of course--and pounding footsteps which must be Nursey hurrying down the back hall.

“Nurse?” Dex calls.

Right before they make it to the living room where everyone’s stationed, the running stops, and there’s a whoop of victory from Shitty. “Where’s your witness now, brah?!” he yells.

There’s a loud thunk, followed by a crash.

“No!”

Lardo rolls her eyes and crosses the room, settling down next to Holster. “Made ya this,” she says, holding up a pretty purple and black patterned bracelet.

Holster grins. “Aw, Lards!”

“You okay Nursey?” Bitty calls, setting down his stuff and darting off for the hallway. “You get killed?”

“I wanted some of that light blue,” Lardo says as she swiftly ties the bracelet to his wrist. “But Ransom stole it all.”

Ransom huffs. “It’s like Holtzy’s eyes!”

“ _Ugh,_ Shits is my nose broken?!”

“No way, dude.”

“Nursey,” Chowder sighs down the hall, mostly in relief, “you’re _fine_.”

“C it _hurts_ ,” Nursey whines.

People start moving down toward the hallway in a rush while the three of them settle in on the couch. Holster knows Bitty and Jack’ll take care of it. “Maybe if you knotted your string a little tighter,” Lardo says, leaning over Holster to point to Ransom’s bracelet, “then it would pull taut, like Holtz’s here has.”

“Don’t compare them like that,” Holster rushes, “Ransom’s is good!”

“Aw, c’mon Holster,” Ransom says with a laugh. “It’s not _good_.”

“A for effort.”

“Effort is not always reflected in grades!”

“I wasn’t saying one was better than the other,” Lardo says, leaning back. “I was saying if Ransom pulled his knots tighter, then maybe he’d save string, and I could’ve used some of the blue.”

“Well I’d wear the shit out of it anyway,” Holster says.

“Good,” Ransom says. “Cuz it’s for you.”

 **Nursey**  
rip me  
ye knew him well

“Awww, guys,” Holster says, as Ransom ties the bracelet to his wrist. Now he’s got two, from two of his favorite people. “This is gonna be us next year, all the time!”

Lardo leans on his arm and Ransom holds up his hand for a fist bump once the bracelet is knotted. It’s a mess and Holster’s going to wear it forever. “Gonna be weird,” Rans says, settling in by Holster’s side again. “But I think we’ll be okay.”

“I think so too,” Lardo says. “I’m glad it’s us.”

 **Shitty  
** Me too

Lardo digs out her phone. “What?!” She shifts away from Holster and turns so she’s yelling toward the hallways. “Shitty! You’re fucking dead?!”

“Sorry Lards!” he calls back. Shitty sticks his head out the doorway so he can look at the three of them. “Killed the hell outta Nursey first though.”

“And maybe broke his nose!” Nursey calls from farther down the hallway.

Shitty huffs, “You ran into the doorframe all on your own!”

Dex falls apart in laughter in the background.

“Dude,” Ransom says, pulling back. “You--wait, you got killed like--immediately after you killed Nursey?”

“Crazy world out there,” he says with a grin.

* * *

Once the chaos of the back-to-back kills settles down, Nursey pretty chill with being dead (despite his injured nose) and Shitty surprisingly okay with death as well, Lardo pulls Holster and Ransom aside.

“It was Bitty,” she says.

The Haus splits up a bit. Nursey asks Dex for advice on bracelet making (even though he’s Not Great at it which results in some chirping from Chowder), and Jack and Bitty disappear to the kitchen for God knows what with Shitty in tow, and there are only a few of them left in the game.

Holster narrows her eyes at her. “Who was Bitty?” he asks.

“That killed Shits.”

Ransom tips his head to the side. “Did Shitty tell you this?”

“Of course he didn’t tell me this,” she huffs. “Once Shitty dies he just wants to fuck with people. Okay, well he always wants to do that, but. Look. The two of us had a plan.”

“As always,” Holster says.

“What was the plan?” Ransom asks.

“Can’t tell you.”

“Shitty’s dead, dude,” Holster says. “And apparently trying to fuck with you! Tell us your plan!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m in this to win with that asshole's help or not. But listen. I didn’t kill him. And neither of you killed him. And you’re trying to tell me that Jack was that quick on his feet that he could kill Shitty without any thought like that?”

Holster frowns. “He’s gonna be a professional hockey player, Lards, I think he’s a pretty fast thinker.”

“Not when Bitty is teaching people how to make friendship bracelets,” she tosses back.

Ransom laughs. “Fair point,” he says.

“And Bitty,” Lardo elaborates, “was the first one down that hall. So it had to be him. Right?”

This is suspicious.

The only person Lardo has ever formed an alliance with in the history of Assassins is Shitty. Why is she even talking to them? This has got to be part of her plan.

“Right,” Holster agrees, even though Ransom also looks suspicious. Great minds, and all that. Always on the same wavelength. “So what’s the point?”

“So obviously,” Lardo says slowly, “we need to take out Bitty.”

Ransom arches an eyebrow. Thunder booms in the background. “Oh do we now?” he asks.

She nods. “Oh yeah. He’s one fast kid and we’ve never seen him in this game before. We don’t know what he’s truly capable of. So are you gonna help me or not?”

Holster’s eyes dart between her and Ransom. Ransom’s face doesn’t change. Lardo’s face doesn’t change.

Someone here is hardcore lying.

“Maybe,” Ransom says slowly, which gives absolutely nothing away!

There are way too many possibilities here right now. Lardo could have Bitty and Ransom could be lying, or Ransom could have Bitty and Lardo is lying. Or neither of them could have Bitty and they’re both lying?

Whatever the hell is happening, Holster wants no part of it.

“I don’t form alliances,” he says, slowly backing away, eyes on both of them.

He’d fooled himself into thinking that Ransom really has Bitty! Ransom’s the smartest guy he knows, he could have anyone! And to be fair, he has Ransom as a target, so he’s generally safe in his company until Ransom’s taken out, but this is still anyone’s game! This could be part of Ransom’s entire freaking strategy!

“ _Holtz_ ,” Ransom whines.

“No way! This is dangerous shit, here. Which of you has Bitty?!” Neither Ransom or Lardo say a thing. “Nuh-uh! No _way_!”

“Ugh.” He turns to Lardo. “Sorry, Lards. Gotta stick with my bro.”

“I never agreed to an alliance with you either, Rans,” Holster tells him, quickly rounding the corner to get away from this conversation.

“Don’t leave me!” Ransom calls, hurrying after him with a laugh. “I have abandonment issues!”

Holster laughs too, hurrying up the steps two at a time, lest Lardo appear and surprise murder the both of them rapid fire style. Ransom follows after him with all the speed and agility of an incredible hockey player and they rush for the stairs to the attic when, suddenly, the lights go out.

Both of them pause. The Haus is quiet.

“Oh _hell_ no,” Holster says, flicking the lightswitch by the door. On, off, on, off, doesn’t matter. Nothing changes. “Shit.”

 **Lardo  
** power out?

 **Dex**  
Circuit might’ve blown  
Let me check

 **Bitty  
** Our hero!!

There’s a moment where everyone’s phones chime, and Holster opens a new alert separate from the group chat.

 **Samwell Emergency Alerts  
** ALERT: University wide power-outage in effect until further notice from flooding and heavy rains. STAY INSIDE. AVOID TRAVEL. STAY ALERT.

And then, back in their own chat.

 **Dex  
** Never mind

Lightning bursts outside and fills the hallway with color. He turns to Rans, his face only illuminated by the storm. “This shit just got real,” Holster says.

Ransom grins. “Face paint?”

“You read my fucking mind.”

* * *

Holster isn’t sure how he was expected to _not_ fall for Ransom.

He was kind of overwhelmed with how hot Ransom was the first time they met, but figuring out his own sexual identity had some road bumps and it wasn’t a while until he realized that some of this friendship makes him feel something past the point of ordinary friendship.

Like now. With the two of them standing close, drawing war paint on one another’s faces as though they’re really in the middle of a battle. Ransom’s delicate with Holster, gentle yet calloused fingers on his jaw to keep him still, the steady hand of a future surgeon pulling the crayon slowly over his cheek.

“I really hope you’re not fucking up my face,” Holster says, but only because he needs to be talking so he’s not just gazing in Ransom’s general direction.

“Impossible, bro. You’re beautiful.”

Holster snorts, and Ransom grins, and there’s something here. Right? It’s always been here, but in moments like this it feels louder.

“You know we don’t have an alliance,” Holster murmurs, “right?”

“ _Suuure_ ,” Ransom says fondly. “Of course not.”

“You don’t even know who I have,” Holster reminds him.

“I guess you don’t really know who I have either now, do you?”

Holster shoves at his chest, pulling back with a laugh. “Asshole,” he says, but he’s grinning, and so is Ransom, and seriously _how_ was he expected to _not fall for Ransom_. Even after pushing him away they end up a step closer anyway, Ransom finishing the touches on his face. “You really think we’ll be okay next year?” Holster asks. “Just you me and Lards? No Shitty or Jack?”

“I’m way happy that we have Lardo,” Ransom says, pulling back to assess his work. “But I know as long as I have _you_ I’ll be fine.”

Something settles in the base of Holster’s throat. He wants to press his forehead against Ransom’s and lean in, slower and slower until their lips meet. He wants to take two steps forward and press Ransom against the wall and kiss him until someone comes up demanding they return to finish the game. He wants to cup Ransom’s face between his hands and brush his thumbs over his jaw and whisper how important he is to Holster until he’s out of breath.

Instead he ducks his head to fight his blush and says, “You’re a sap.”

Ransom smiles. “Yeah. Sue me.” They trade the face paint. “So I think I might’ve figured it out,” he says as Holster settles in. His hand is not nearly as steady, and he does not have nearly enough self-control. Ransom has these long, beautiful eyelashes, and his eyes are so warm and brown that Holster wants to get lost in them, and being this close to him is super distracting. “Lardo was gonna use us to distract Bitty so she could kill Jack.”

Holster pulls back. “So you do have Bitty.”

Ransom arches an eyebrow. “You thought I lied to you?” he challenges. Holster makes a guilty face, pouting just a little, and Ransom smirks. “I don’t lie to you, Holtzy.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Even if you refuse to tell me who _you_ have,” he carries on.

“Yes, and?”

Ransom laughs, reaching up to cup Holster’s cheek and tug him a touch closer, reminding him to work on his face. “But she and Shitty are smart,” Ransom continues while Holster goes back to work, “and they’re probably close to figuring out the whole circle of who has who if they don’t know already.”

“That’s their strategy?”

Ransom tips his head to the side and Holster almost smears his makeup. “Yeah, then they’re steps ahead. They’ve always played that way. So you basically told her I have Bitty.”

“Oh. Shit, Rans.”

He pulls back with a laugh and Holster drops his hand again. “It’s okay. I don’t think they’ll tell him.”

Holster hesitates. “That seems like how you’d play,” he points out. "Figuring out the whole circle."

But Ransom shakes his head. “Nah. Used to. But it doesn’t really help me to know who has me? It makes me way paranoid and then fucks up my game.”

“For sure,” Holster agrees. That makes sense.

“So I don’t think on it too much. But for Shitty and Lardo...” he trails off.

“That’s just how they play,” Holster concludes. He wonders if they know he has Ransom, then. “Huh.”

Random pokes his stomach. “What’s your strategy, Holtz?” he asks.

“No alliances,” Holster murmurs. Ransom laughs. “I don’t really have a strategy,” he says. He kind of considered one in the beginning, wondering when he should toss his sock at Ransom, but he’s sure he’ll do it before the final two. His brain just kind of figures things out when it needs to. That’s why he’s so good on the ice. “See what happens and react.”

“Not a great philosophy for life,” Ransom tells him.

“I thought we were talking about Assassins,” Holster quips back. He reaches up, steadying Ransom’s face with his chin, and switches cheeks to make his other mark. “And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with life happening and then reacting to it.”

Ransom arches an eyebrow. “So you’re saying you’re a reactionary.”

“Rans!” Ransom laughs beautifully and Holster can’t stop himself from laughing too. It’s infectious. “I’m not saying I’m a reactionary,” he mutters. “Politically. But.” He finishes his work, pulling back. “We all know thinking preventatively and progressively is best in, like, all situations. Hence a strategy in a game, or whatever. It’s just sometimes it’s hard to apply that to life on a personal level.”

“True.” Ransom looks fond, probably because he riled up Holster with his teasing. “You’re so damn smart, Holtzy," he says, and it almost sounds like a chirp.

“It’s why you love me.”

“One of the reasons,” Rans agrees.

Holster turns away so Ransom doesn’t see him blush. “Okay,” Holster says. “So. What’s our next move?”

Ransom lights up like the sun, warm enough to dry everything this rain has soaked through.

* * *

Their next move, it turns out, is to try and be Jack’s witness.

They’re operating under Ransom’s assumption that Lardo really is trying to kill Jack, so they integrate themselves into the darkened-Haus like it’s no big deal. Nursey’s reading by candlelight (“Which is _not_ good for his eyes,” Dex mutters when he tells Holster where to find him) and Chowder’s trying to get Lardo to teach him some simple drawing techniques and Ransom and Holster join Jack and Bitty in the kitchen.

Bitty greets them with enthusiasm but it’s clear in his eyes that he would rather them not be there.

“Of course the power being out doesn’t stop Bittle,” Jack comments, settling down at the kitchen table with Holster and Ransom across from him. “We’re making no-bakes, now.”

“The weather works hard but Bitty works harder,” Ransom says with a grin.

Which is true for a little bit. Bitty gets all of them involved in crushing Oreos into crumbs and for a while, Holster forgets they’re playing a game. He laughs with Jack and knocks his knee against Ransom’s under the table and chirps Bitty and it’s wonderful.

But then the wind whips something _big_ into the side of the Haus, so loud and forceful that it sounds like a tree snapping in half. Holster’s on his feet at once and he and Jack rush out the back door to see what’s happened and if there’s going to be a lot of damage. Holster’s not even thinking as he darts into the rain, soaked to the bone in an instant, Jack right behind him.

They round the corner of the Haus, near the window of the kitchen.

“Dude!” Holster shouts

Jack frowns.

It’s a chunk one of the school signs. Specifically, the later half, and it reads _ELL,_ and it’s literally the size of Holster himself.

“Well that’s not good,” Jack says.

“W- _ell_ ,” Holster comments. Jack shakes his head, starting back around the corner to head back in. This is incredible. “We should totally take this inside!” Holster shouts, rushing toward it. It’s not metal, exactly, but it’s something heavy and the edges are jagged from having snapped off whatever structure it was on. “Jack, come help me grab it!”

“Holster!” Ransom yells through the kitchen window, his voice barely carrying over the storm. “Get back in here! You’re gonna catch a cold!”

Holster throws his head back in a laugh, turning his body toward where Jack was just in time to see--a sock lob through the storm?!

“Jack!” Holster shouts, but he’s gone, already around the corner. “ _DID JACK JUST DIE_?” Holster bellows, his voice just as booming as the thunder, and sprints in his friend’s direction. There are two more socks in the grass, soaked to the bone, but Jack is nowhere in site. “Guys!”

Holster slips in the mud and catches himself on his wrist-- _ouch_ \--before Ransom appears in the doorway.

He startles at the site of Holster holding his wrist to his chest, half-covered in mud. “Adam,” he exhales sharply.

“It’s fine,” Holster says, jerking his head forward so Ransom doesn’t enter the storm. “Where’s Jack?”

“Is your wrist okay?”

“Ransy. Jack.”

“He hurried upstairs to change,” he says, ushering Holster inside. “Let me see your wrist,” he says.

“Were you trying to murder Jack?” He glances around the kitchen, his glasses blurry from the rain and his hair covering his eyes. “Where’d Bitty go?”

“These are not the most important things right now,” Ransom says, forcing Holster into a seat. He sits beside him and holds out his hand, demanding Holster’s wrist. “Lemme see.”

 **Jack**  
Good luck in the Frozen Four without a Captain  
Haha

 **Chowder  
** oh god no please don’t make us

 **Nursey  
** bruh jack’s dead???

 **Bitty  
** Did Holster kill you while you were outside??

 _Ugh_. “Bitty’s framing me!” Holster shouts, making sure his voice carries through the Haus. “And-- _ow_ , Jesus, Justin,” he mutters, yanking his wrist out of Ransom’s grip. Ransom huffs and reaches out for him again. “Careful.”

 **Jack  
** Yeah I’m out

 **Shitty**  
rest in peace my noble and wise friend  
we will honor your memory in the only way we know how  
with tub juice

 **Jack  
** Please don’t do that

 **Nursey  
** are we about to make tub juice right now??????

 **Jack  
** No

 **Lardo  
** YES

“Well it’s not broken,” Ransom says, “but you’ve definitely gotta be more careful. Might be sprained.”

“Noooo.”

“You’re the one who ran out into the rain,” Ransom says with a little laugh as Holster pitches himself forward, dropping his forehead against Ransom’s shoulder. “You’re soaked, Holtz,” he murmurs. He reaches up to brush his fingers through Holster’s wet hair. “You should change.”

“Mmf.” He knows Ransom’s right, but he also doesn’t want to move. “Thanks for always taking care of me,” he says. Ransom’s still carding his fingers through Holster’s hair. “You’re gonna be a great doctor one day,” he adds, voice feeling tight.

They’ve still got a year and some months before graduation, but what happens when Ransom goes off to med school on the other side of the country? It’s bound to happen. It’s going to be awful.

“Maybe,” Ransom says. “I don’t mind taking care of you.” Holster pulls back and Ransom plucks his glasses from Holster’s face so he can dry them on his not soaking wet shirt. “Here,” he says, handing them back. “I got your back.”

Holster grins. “You always do.”


	3. another one bites the dust

**Chowder**  
FINAL FOUR  
DUN DUN DUHHH

With Jack dead, there are four of them left.

Holster panics.

After cleaning up the kitchen, Jack returning down nice and dry with Bitty a few steps behind, happy to get back to no-baking, Ransom insists that Holster needs to change his clothes as well. They take a roundabout way to get to the stairwell because the pressure’s really on now and they have no idea who _actually_ took out Jack, so Lardo could be anywhere. Bitty, at least seems distracted.

But if it’s impossible for Ransom to be trying to kill Holster, since Holtz still has his name, then the numbers are so much smaller now with either Lardo or Bitty is waiting to strike. And it makes Holster nervous. So when he reaches into his pocket, a few steps behind Ransom in the abandoned hallway, he isn’t even thinking.

It’s so anticlimactic.

The balled up sock spins through the air, thumping him square in the back before falling to the ground with a wet thud, having gotten damp from Holster standing out in the rain.

He should’ve waited for Rans to kill Bitty.

Ransom spins around, eyes wide, jaw dropped. He spots the sock in an instant. It’s on the ground in-between them.

“You didn’t,” he says.

“Rans.”

“It was you! This whole time!”

“Rans!”

“Since the very beginning!” he carries on in a stage-whisper. He almost sounds angry but the truth of the situation is written on his face. It’s shock, more than anything, and general disbelief. He strides toward Holster slowly. “Do you realize what you just did, dude?”

“I _know_ ,” Holster warbles. “I wasn’t even thinking, bro! And you were right there! And--”

 **Lardo**  
well it appears i’ve been murdered  
(knife emoji) (knife emoji) (knife emoji)

They both check their phones and share a look. “Lards is out,” Ransom says, voice shifting into something urgent. “Dude, it’s just you and Bitty.”

Holster frowns, doing some mental calculations. “Lardo was trying to kill me?” he asks. “For how long, do we think?” If Bitty killed her then Jack had Lardo which meant Lardo had him! Maybe this whole time! “She made me this fucking friendship bracelet!”

Before Ransom can respond, something teasing Holster’s sure, the sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs startles the both of them. Rans leaves the sock on the ground and grabs Holster’s shoulders, guiding him to the nearby closet, shutting them both inside as quickly and as quietly as he can.

“Can’t believe we didn’t even get you in dry clothes before you killed me,” Ransom mutters as the door clicks.

“To be fair,” Holster murmurs, leaning back against the wall, “I wouldn’t have been able to kill you in the attic.”

Ransom thunks his head back against the other wall. There’s not a lot of room between them. “I can’t believe you killed me.”

“I panicked!”

Ransom exhales deeply. “Was it really you this whole time?”

“Unfortunately I have to say yes,” Holster tells him. “What did I say earlier?” he huffs. “I don’t have a strategy, I just react! And there were just four of us at the time, and--okay, I guess I could’ve waited for Lards to be out as it was just moments later, but--!”

The floorboards outside the closet creak and Ransom lifts his index finger to his lips, as though Holster doesn’t _know_ he has to suddenly drop into silence.

Never in his life did he think he’d be up for the winning spot in Assassins against _Bitty_.

When the Haus is nearly quiet again, save the rumble of the weather outside, Ransom lets out a soft breath. “You’ve gotta kill him, Holtz,” he whispers. It’s so fucking sweet how quickly Ransom’s joined his team. There’s probably some residual frustration at being out, but Ransom’s ride or die, always. Holster knows it would’ve been the same if he’d died before Ransom, too. “He doesn’t know I’m dead yet. You can win!”

It would be so easy to use this to their advantage.

“I’ve gotta wait until you send your text, man.”

Ransom groans. “You and your nobility.”

“Rules are rules!”

“Since when?!”

“Since we agreed to them as a Haus,” Holster says, nodding. “And since it’s Bitty! As ruthless as he seems to be--he deserves a fair shot.” Maybe some rules are meant to be broken, but Holster wants this win fair and square! “Send your text!”

“Okay, okay. You’re right.”

 **Ransom**  
another one bites the dust  
(me it was me)

 **Shitty  
** HOLY SHIT IT’S JUST BITTY AND HOLSTER HAHAHA

 **Jack  
** I shouldn’t be surprised that Bittle’s still alive and yet

 **Bitty  
** ;)

“He’s going to fucking murder me,” Holster says, reading the messages. “Eric fucking Bittle. Of all people!”

“I told you he was a game changer!” The floor outside shifts again and they both fall silent. Even in the dark they meet one another’s eyes. “I can’t believe you killed me,” Ransom whispers again, but now he’s grinning. Sensing Holster’s nerves, Ransom’s shifted into teasing. Holster could kiss him. “The ultimate betrayal, man. No wonder you didn't want an alliance.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Holster reminds him. “You were alone, the time crunch was happening.”

“That’s that quick brain of yours, Holtzy.”

“Now is not the time to comment on my lack of impulse control,” he murmurs.

Ransom laughs, nudging Holster with his elbow. They’re big dudes, and there’s not a lot of room in the closet. “You call it impulse control, I call it speedy thinking.” Holster puffs out a laugh and shakes his head, and Ransom’s eyes drop to Holster’s mouth as it curves into a smile.

Holster licks his lips.

“You’re not mad I killed you?” Holster asks, genuinely wanting to make sure his best friend isn’t gonna hold a grudge. Ransom shrugs, dragging his eyes back up.

“Can never stay mad at you for too long,” he responds. “It’s just a game.” Ransom reaches up and extends his thumb to wipe across Holster’s cheek. “Your warpaint’s a mess,” he says quietly. “Can’t have you win with a sloppy face.”

“It got all fucked from the rain,” Holster murmurs, but Ransom keeps working gently. “I’m surprised it’s still there at all.”

“Just a little,” Ransom whispers. Holster doesn’t know why he’s holding his breath. “So listen,” Ransom says as he works carefully. “Holtz. There’s, uh. Something I want to talk to you about. I mean, while we’re here, I guess.”

Holster catches Ransom’s wrist so he’ll stop. He wants to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” Holster whispers.

Ransom’s eyes meet his and even in this dark closet with absolute minimal light, they’re warm and bright. Holster only has a second to think about how much he really just fucking loves Ransom before he’s answering the question. Holster trusts Ransom more than he trusts himself. Absolutely always, no matter the circumstances.

“Remember earlier today when we let Dex die?” he wonders, and Holster exhales a laugh. “And we’d been talking about, you know. Telling our parents?”

“You wanna tell yours?” Holster guesses.

He’s still holding Ransom’s wrist but Ransom shifts so they’re holding hands instead. He even reaches out for Holster’s other hand, and in an instant, hiding in this closet is Holster’s favorite place to be.

“I do,” Ransom murmurs. “They’re coming in a couple of weeks to watch one of our games,” he says. “I want to do it then.”

“Rans that’s so good,” Holster tells him. “Having a set date like that--it gives you time to sort out what you want to say.”

Ransom swallows. “Yeah. That’s true. And I…” he takes a deep breath. “Was hoping you’d be with me. When I did it?”

Holster squeezes Ransom’s hands. “Yeah, of course! If that’s what you want, Rans, I’m totally there.” Ransom’s smiling but his eyebrows are pulled together, and he won’t meet Holster’s gaze. “I can… talk to them?” he offers. “After? If they’re not cool. But--”

“It’s just that they really like you,” he says.

Holster beams. “They’re pretty great too. I mean they raised you, after all.”

Ransom finally looks him in the eye. “And _I_ really like you,” he says, and Holster can’t help but grin. He loves Ransom so fucking much. “So I’m thinking maybe if I introduce the concept of _us_ … it’ll help them stay cool.”

Wait a second.

Holster’s grin fades. “Wait a second,” he says. “Wait a second, wait.” He releases Ransom’s hands and suddenly he can’t look him in the eye. His brain isn’t working. It’s six steps behind. “Rans,” he starts.

“I mean I really like you,” Ransom says, answering the question that Holster hadn’t even been able to ask on. “Like I wanna be your boyfriend, like you.” Holster’s mouth isn’t working, let alone his brain, so he couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. “Like I wanna kiss you all the time, like you.” Holster lowers his forehead to Ransom’s and closes his eyes. He isn’t positive that this is actually happening. “Like I want to tell them either way but would prefer to do it with you, like you.”

Holster closes the distance between them. He knows Ransom even in the dark with his eyes closed. He knows where his mouth is like they’re two sets of magnets that are always going to find each other. But to actually feel Ransom’s mouth so intentional and sure against his own is something he never could’ve prepared himself for. Gentle lips, warm and wet, perfect. He’s thinking too much about Ransom’s mouth because the moment it quirks into a smirk, right after his hands settle on Holster’s still-wet waist, Holster can feel it and it makes him want to groan.

“Rans,” he chokes out, and Ransom gives him enough space to talk. “Yeah. Anything. You know?” Ransom kisses him again. “Course I’ll be there,” he carries on. His words sound slurred, Holster feels drunk. “Us. Yeah, yeah.”

“Okay,” Ransom whispers. “Cool.”

Holster feels like this isn’t happening. He pulls back enough that he can look Ransom in the eyes, but even then he doesn’t feel totally in this moment. “Like you so much Ransy,” he manages.

Ransom grins. “Love to hear it,” he says.

Holster pulls him back in because if Ransom wants to kiss him in this dirty closet, Holster doesn’t have enough willpower to do anything other than that.

Rans reaches up and curls his fingers behind Holster’s ear and Holster moves a step closer, even though there’s not really a step between them. He wants to breathe Ransom in and devour him whole. His hands are shaking but sure, clutching one of Ransom’s hips, one of his shoulders. Holster wants to be everywhere all at once, wants to take his time, wants to burn their bunk bed to the ground and invest in something bigger where the two of them can do this every day until their lips fall off.

“Holtz,” Ransom rasps and he sounds _desperate_. For a moment Holster panics, afraid that this is a mistake and Ransom’s regretting this, but Ransom opens his mouth for him again and again, tugging Holster closer in any way that he can. Still, Holster pulls back. Ransom’s eyes are closed but he keeps tipping his chin up as though trying to kiss him again. “It’s you,” Rans murmurs and Holster feels it in his toes.

He nods into the next kiss and Ransom exhales a soft laugh between them. Because of course it’s him, of course it’s the two of them.

It gets filthy way faster than Holster’s proud of. Ransom bites his bottom lip and Holster slips his leg between Ransom’s and grinds down and if they don’t get out of this fucking closet soon Holster’s going to ruin his pants even more than they already are because he’s wanted this for _so long_ he can’t even stand it.

He slips his hands under Ransom’s shirt and Ransom does the same, slick against his damp skin, and all Holster can think about is a _bed_ , upstairs, where they can both pull these clothes from their bodies and lose themselves in the stretch of one another’s skin.

He’s finally got Ransom under his hands and Holster is pretty sure there is absolutely nothing in the entire universe that can ruin a moment like this.

He is wrong.

Holster isn’t entirely sure what happens first.

Bitty heaves a mighty battle cry. The closet door opens. The sock is thrown, hitting Holster square in the back. Ransom parts his lips so Holster can slip his tongue into his mouth. Someone is turning to face the doorway. “...Holster?”

Holster can only imagine how this looks. Flushed cheeks, red mouths, Ransom’s hand still wound around Holster’s waist. There’s more light in the hallway because it carries in, showing the dark marks that Holster’s wet clothes have left on Ransom’s dry ones.

“Bits!” Holster greets brightly, breathlessly. “Hey! How’re you--” his eyes catch on the sock on the ground, and then he remembers the bump on his back. “Now hold on a second,” he starts.

Bitty arches his eyebrows playfully. “Yeah, Holtz?” he asks.

Holster isn’t sure what to say. Caught somewhere between trying to figure out if he just lost this game because he was making out with Ransom and wanting to go back to making out with Ransom. Bitty is waiting. The Haus creaks. People are nearby, he can sense them.

“You hit me with that sock?” Holster asks. “Because I’m not sure that I really _felt_ it, and--”

Bitty huffs, cutting him off, “You did seem to be a bit distracted!”

“What happened?” Shitty shouts down from the hallway.

Holster’s ears are burning. “Nothing!” he shouts back. He exits the closet quickly, Bitty stepping out of the way to make room. “Normal things happening down here, nothing to concern yourselves with.”

Lardo’s head appears in the hallway. “Did Bitty hit you or not?”

“Rans can call Witness!” Holster bursts. People file into the hallway as Ransom leans backwards into the closet like he’s trying very hard to get out of this conversation. “Right Rans?” he asks, turning. Ransom’s got his face in his hands. “Oh my God Ransom.”

“You’re the one who was being intense about the rules,” he mumbles.

“Rans!”

“Holy shit,” Shitty says with a grin. Holster looks over his shoulder and they’re all there, waiting. “What were you two doing in the closet, brah?”

“Hiding,” Holster says. He's sure there's a closet joke in here somewhere but his brain is being tugged in a million directions. “Ransom I swear--”

“If he didn’t see it,” Bitty says, holding up his hands innocently, “then he didn’t see it!”

“So did he see it?” Lardo presses. Ransom’s hands are still over his face. “C’mon, Ransom, give us an answer bro!”

“I mean if you want to get into technicalities,” he starts quietly, “then I _technically_ didn’t see Bitty--”

“Ransom!” Holster yells. Rans lowers his hands from his face but he’s smiling shamelessly, and Bitty has his hands up as though he’s preparing to celebrate. “Am I dead?” he asks, turning to look at the rest of his friends.

“You’re dead as shit, dude,” Lardo tells him. “Bitty wins.”

The Haus enters into a complete uproar.

“ _BITTY WINS!_ ”

Despite his loss, the absolute joy that radiates throughout the group is so pure and wholesome that Holster can’t help but be swept up too. He laughs and Ransom joins them and soon Bitty’s in the air while Shitty starts a chant.

Eventually the excitement dies down and they carry Bitty into the kitchen so everyone can snack as they get their answers. Ransom and Holster linger in the doorway, a few steps back from everyone else, pressed arm to arm and ready to make a quick getaway.

“Alright,” Shitty demands, pulling up a chair. “Tell us how you did it.”

“Have you met me?” Bitty quips.

Chowder beams, “You’re probably gonna be captain because of this one day, Bitty.”

“Oh, well I don’t know about that,” Bitty says with a laugh. “No, it was fun! I just used what I had. I figured that Ransom had me because right after I texted about the pie, he went running down the stairs.”

“Then I was waiting at the top of the stairs,” Chowder says, eager to finally share his death. “And I didn’t know Bitty had me! So before I knew what was happening there were socks flashing past me, whizzing right by my head! I nearly made it to the bathroom before I got hit.”

“Very Matrix,” Bitty agrees.

“Lardo got me,” Dex offers. “That was the next kill.”

“I was just looking down to see what you guys were up to,” Lardo says. “It was too easy.”

“We all know Shitty killed me,” Nursey says with a mouthful of snacks.

“Bitty got me,” Shitty says. “So fucking graceful, too. Admirable, really.”

“I didn’t do years of figure skating for nothing,” Bitty comments, grinning. “So Shitty had Jack,” Bitty carries on. “And I didn’t want to be too suspicious so I had to wait a bit.”

“Lardo,” Ransom calls, and she looks over. “Did you know I had Bitty?”

“Once Holtz confirmed it,” she says, and Holster groans. “But I didn’t care about getting Bitty, I was trying to kill _you_.”

Holster points at her, “I knew it!”

“Eventually,” Ransom reminds him with a whisper.

“Eventually,” Holster agrees.

“So I tried to get him when y’all ran out into that storm, which was _dangerous_ ,” Bitty recounts. “But the wind kept ruining my shots.”

“He chased me up the stairs and got me before I got into my room,” Jack says. “Less Matrix.”

“So then I had Lardo,” Bitty starts up again. “Who I only got because she literally rounded the corner and walked smack dab into Chowder.”

“Sorry!” Chowder bursts.

“They were both so disoriented for a moment I just took my chance!”

“I panicked and killed Rans,” Holster says, knowing that Ransom’s death was next in succession.

 _“Panicked,”_ Ransom echoes, rolling his eyes, but he’s grinning.

“But I think it happened mostly at the same time.”

“How’d you know we were in the closet?” Ransom asks.

Bitty smirks. “Y’all really need to learn to clean up after yourselves. You left the sock in the middle of the hallway!”

Holster nudges Ransom with a laugh. “We don’t have power,” Holster reasons, “you might not have seen it.”

“I see _everything_ ,” Bitty says, eyes bright before he winks, and Holster feels his face get warm.

Shitty offers up another round of celebrations and Lardo insists that they really _do_ make tub juice but while everyone gets lost in the conversation, Ransom snags Holster’s shirt and drags him backwards and out of the kitchen.

“We need to get you out of these clothes,” Ransom murmurs, pushing him toward the stairs.

“I’m nearly dry now,” he argues, just for fun.

“Not because they’re wet,” Ransom tells him.

Holster’s laughter follows them up the steps, booming louder than the thunder.

* * *

They’re swaddled around each other in Holster’s bunk when the power finally comes back on an hour or so later. Their warpaint has been washed away, their clothes are dry, and Holster doesn’t think he’s ever going to get over this.

“Rans,” he says softly.

“Don’t say something cheesy,” Ransom murmurs from where he’s nuzzled against Holster’s chest.

Holster laughs at his immediate response. “Like what?”

“Like--look, we won anyway, or something.”

“Awwww.” Holster bends down, pressing a wet kiss to the top of Ransom’s head. “That’s so fucking cute. You’re such a sweetheart, Rans.”

“Oh my God, _stop it_ ,” Ransom laughs. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

“We totally did win anyway,” Holster adds.

Ransom's still laughing. “Ugh.”

“But that’s not what I was going to say” he says. Holster traces his finger down the side of Ransom’s neck, across his collarbone, and Ransom hums. “I was gonna say I’m sorry I broke our alliance.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ransom says sleepily. He’s smirking as he says, “We never really had one, remember?”

“And you told _me_ not to say something cheesy,” Holster whispers back. “You’ve just had these on tap, waiting for your excuse to woo me. Haven’t you?”

Half asleep, Ransom chuckles in place of an answer, slow and warm. Holster couldn’t love him more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @madgesundersee or on twitter @wholesomeholsom! leave some love if you can!


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